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Morning was Broken

One morning earlier this week, in a highly uncharacteristic move, I departed the house before my children did. I did not leave calmly, nor did I leave happily. I left in what can only be described as a rage. My children were so wildly obnoxious and rude that I literally wondered if I would be able to contain my anger long enough to get myself out the door, in the car and safely drive off.

The details of their transgressions (both were equally culpable) fall squarely into the “things I need not share with everyone on earth” category, but, suffice to say, it was unpleasant for everyone involved. I am aware of two sets of tears (mine and Jessie’s) and one denial of car usage. I am less aware of what exactly prompted the complete dissolution of humanity from my kitchen table.

As much as my children were losing their shit at the tender hour of 7 a.m., I was no better. As I drove off I willed myself not to cry. I had a full day of meetings and appointments and the thought of facing any of them with my beloved mascara having been washed away was simply more than I could bear. I situated my car in a place that I would not be spotted by aforementioned monsters, yet would be able to assure that they got off okay. I spied Jessie and her bright pink jacket (which she has since managed to lose) walking alongside our neighbor Grace and checked her off my list of immediate concerns. Not long afterward, the high school bus rounded the corner and I checked to see that Harrison’s car remained in the driveway. At the precise moment I did my drive-by, he was climbing into his friend Alex’s car, hitching a ride. (This kid will do anything to avoid taking the bus.) Once I knew that they were both on their way to school and each looked fairly unscathed by the events of the morning, the need to weep passed. But, as you can surmise from the fact that I am still talking about this all this days later, I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

One thing I know for sure: this had nothing to do with anything tangible. (Read: one child did not do anything egregious against the other.) And while I like to think it was unrelated to Jessie’s (not quite so) new identity, I fear that, in the recesses of the minds, it may have been. No matter if the issue is transgender, illness, anxiety or any other of the many curveballs we all face as people and, perhaps even more so as parents, everyone in the house is forced to take it on and, inevitably, it bubbles to the surface under the guise of something totally unrelated and, voila, we have complete and total meltdown. Well, that was a hell of a way to start the day.

I know how hard this (or any other unanticipated, crazy ass issue) has been for everyone in the family. A part of me almost appreciates the degree of normalcy in siblings going after one another, although that morning was a tad more dramatic and intense than I might like. Another part of me, though, wonders when the new normal will become just plain old normal. When will negative sibling exchanges be taken at face value and not require deep psychological thinking? When will I successfully embrace the “sometimes a rose is just a rose” philosophy that is so close, yet so far away? And when will my kids make the move from being at each other’s throats to appreciating one another and their shared history?

I am relatively sure that my darling children have all but forgotten about the ugliness of that morning earlier this week. There have been minor upsets, insults and altercations since then which, if I had to guess, are more in the forefront of their immature minds than the time they drove mom to the brink of insanity. And I suppose it is preferable that I, as opposed to my kids, be the one struggling. Either way, as boring a normal can be it sounds kinda nice right about now…

As always, I enjoy reading your blog. When I see a new one posted, I get excited and scroll down hoping it’s a “long” one. Today’s post was refreshing, as it’s nice to know that other moms simply hit the breaking point when it comes to their kids. I have had those moments when I’ve driven off (and I don’t have a transgender kid). I have two kids that bicker and drive me to insanity (and one of them is not transgender). My kids have so many differences that they completely drive each other, and me, nuts (and neither is transgender). I have a neighbor whose son (non-transgender) refused to get on the bus, and she slammed her front door so hard that her cute little St. Patty’s day wreath shattered all over her front porch. I think that sometimes a rose really is JUST a rose. I completely understand how hard it must be to stop wondering if Jessie’s “change” is the culprit, but remember that all of us moms have those crazy moments when our kids (regardless of other deep-seated issues) simply put us over the edge. You should not feel bad about it! As your kids have most likely put that morning into the recesses of their memories, you too should do the same. 🙂

Ironically, your experience sounds so normal. Yes, unique issues. But normal nonetheless. At least they weren’t hitting each other with shovels like my friend use to do to her sister when she was young? 😀

Whew! As a stay at home mom of two youngsters (3 and 4), i can deffinately relate. Glad to know i’m not the only mom who needs a breather every now and then. My two, boy and girl, bicker every 20 minutes it seems. Wouldn’t be “normal” if they didn’t

You are doing just fine…”NORMAL” behavior for a Mom in the pressure cooker..lol And I agree that perhaps there are some unspoken issues that older brother has about his younger brother becoming his sister..I can understand that..and perhaps he feels a little loss in that he can’t pass on whatever it is that older brothers pass on ..lol But,it will all work out. HUgs to you,Rogina

Even if a rose is just a rose, it still grows from a stem of thorns- which can make pricks out of even the most prized of roses. You can further this to make your own transgender girl joke, but really, you don’t have to have one to be one. In the end, the beauty of the flower is much greater than the pain of the thorns. Julie, you really do deserve a beautiful bouquet (but don’t count on it now). My daughters, who are both in their early 30s, will occasionally express sorrow for childhood regressions (most likely because of shocks to their memories brought on by their own little pricks).

And, one in return, Julie!
As I was just out in the yard pulling weeds from around (interestingly) a rose bush, It hit me that I used the word “regressions” when I probably meant to say “transgressions”. I suppose that regressions works there too, though. Maybe it is because I have become so tired of “trans”-anything and everything that I did that. Then again, the “re” prefix could indicate a different, if only partial, explanation- as in “REgender.” And, what’s the deal with the word, “prefix”, which needs a prefix itself? Maybe Jessie and I are just prefixed girls? (hoping someday to be un-afixed) So, there I went over-thinking it all again… when a rose is just a rose! 🙂

Not sure if the gloomy weather, my gloomy ambient music and my PMP(pre menstrual psychosis) is shading my response to this writing, but all I can say
is I feel your pain- sounds like it was a tough day. Hope you are feeling better
as the days have moved further away from that morning.

Having three grown children, the memories have faded and all the conversations about yesteryear either happy with us trying to remember the details, or unhappy with us not bothering to remember the details. Family growing pains are labor pains for everyone.

When I have days that I want to call the Children’s Aid Society and have one or more of my kids apprehended I know *I* need a break. Hope you managed to get in some time for yourself – at least you could hide out in the car for a while;)

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I'm Julie. I began writing this blog not long after my then 10-year old son, George, began the transition to Jessie. In the years since I have chronicled not only her life, but her big brother Harrison's and mine. I keep things real and love a good story. Thanks for stopping by.